


Supernova

by Cherry101



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Happy Ending, It burns, Loosely based on CalamityK's Like a Sun, M/M, Makeup, Other, Post-Break Up, Why do I do this, You don't have to read that though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 10:24:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10807203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherry101/pseuds/Cherry101
Summary: Oh.It was never Yuri. How could he think that the reason their relationship failed was Yuri? Yuri did nothing wrong. He tried so hard to make Otabek happy, to comfort him, to be there for him…And Otabek had been hurting, physically and emotionally. His knee had been seriously injured, to the point that he would never skate professionally again(although that didn’t stop him from coaching) while Yuri had still been in his prime, unconsciously flaunting medals that Otabek would never win, titles he would never hold.It hadn’t been Yuri’s fault.





	Supernova

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CalamityK](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalamityK/gifts).



> After reading CalamityK's oneshot 'Like a Sun, It Burns', I felt inspired to write this sort of happy ending for our favorite Russian tiger.
> 
> Tell me if you enjoyed it with a kudos and a comment!

“Otabek, do you know Yuri Plisetsky?”

  


The question, asked by his student in the middle of an offseason practice, startled Otabek out of his dazed state. It was so random, so out of nowhere…

  


Alexei, his only student at the time, gazed up at him with pale hazel eyes, expecting an answer. He was only ten, but he had so much potential and was far wiser than most ten year olds Otabek knew.

  


He swallowed, taking a breath to compose himself, “I did. Why do you ask?”  _ How do  _ **_you_ ** _ know him? _

  


It was the one time he was  _ glad _ that Alexei was very outspoken.

  


“Mister P is my ballet instructor. He has a picture of you in his office. Yesterday was my first time going in there, so I never knew. He’s always really sad - did you know that? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile, not even when he compliments me.” The child babbled, lacing his skates up.

  


_ Yuri keeps a picture of me? _

  


It wasn’t as if that was uncommon - he and Yuri had spent years together, as friends, as boyfriends, as fiances - but Otabek had been told by a very angry Mila that Yuri had burned everything that reminded him of Otabek, and surely a  _ picture of him _ would remind the blonde of their relationship.

  


With his thoughts swirling around, he feels lucky that those words were not the ones to exit his mouth, but rather, “Ballet instructor, huh?”

  


Alexei beamed, “Yeah! Mama says he’s the best teacher in all of Russia! So, on the weekends, when I’m back in St. Petersburg, he gives me lessons!”

  


In the years since his retirement, Otabek had known that Yuri had retired a season after. He had not known that Yuri decided to go into  _ ballet _ , of all things. 

  


_ It does suit him though… he was good at it. _

  


Otabek wasn’t even sure why Yuri had retired. It wasn’t age, he never injured himself, he just up and chose to leave the sport he loved so much.

  


Of course, Mila had told him exactly what she thought, the day she marched into his brand new apartment in Almaty and slapped him across the face, her cheeks as red as her hair.

  


_ “How could you force yourself into his life and break him like that? Huh? He loved you! And you tossed him aside like a broken toy! He’s retiring, did you know that? Skating reminds him so much of you that he’s leaving, just like that, because he breaks down every time he merely thinks of you! How could you, Otabek?” _

  


_ I don’t know.  _ Otabek wanted to reply, if he could travel back in time and actually respond to her instead of gaping like an idiot while she ranted.  _ I don’t know. _

  


_ I miss him. _

  


_ I thought I was fine without him.  _

  


_ I thought he was the problem. _

  


_ I… I was wrong. _

  


Funny, how it took the question of a curious child to bring back memories he had tried  _ so hard  _ to forget. 

  


After the breakup, after Mila’s visit, after Yuri’s retirement, Otabek had decided that skating was a part of his life, a part he couldn’t forget anymore. While he couldn’t skate himself, he decided to start coaching, to help kids who had been like him. 

  


It had only been a year. 

  


Still.

  


Otabek forced himself to bury the thoughts he had been thinking deep within the recesses of his mind, because he didn’t want to think about Yuri. He thought he was done thinking about Yuri. 

  


As luck would have it, though, Alexei was far more observant than he thought. He knew the kid was smart. 

  


It was a Friday afternoon when Alexei’s mother, a rich, humble woman named Yekaterina, came to pick Alexei up. Alexei’s parents were divorced - his mother lived in St. Petersburg, his father in Almaty, and they made ends meet. Katya would come down and pick Alexei up for the weekends, and his father would take him to practice during the week. 

  


It was only when Alexei was about to leave that he got this mischievous look in his eyes, one that Otabek easily recognized. 

  


“Whatever you’re thinking, Alexei, you better stop and focus on your doubles.” He told the kid, watching him nod and continue practicing his jumps.

  


That was when Katya had showed up, her dark brown hair pulled up in a bun. 

  


Typically, Alexei never noticed his mother until Otabek called him off the ice. This time, however, he immediately skated over to her, hands waving around in what Otabek knew from experience was excitement. 

  


“Mama! Did you know Otabek knows Mister P?”

  


Katya glanced at Otabek with mild curiosity, a reserved smile on her face, “Oh really?”

  


Before Otabek could say anything, Alexei perked up, “Yeah! Could he come to St. Petersburg with us and talk to him? I wanna see Mister P smile!”

  


“I don’t think-”

  


“If you’ll have me.” Otabek jumped in, and he immediately regretted it. He hadn’t been to St. Petersburg since… well, since he  _ left _ . 

  


Alexei’s eyes widened, and he beamed, sending puppy eyes towards his mother, “Please?”

  


Katya chuckled, ruffling his hair slightly, “Alright.”

  


“Yay!” 

  


Otabek sighed, smiling despite the fear pooling into his stomach coupled with bitterness and worry. 

  


~~~~~~~~~~

  


Within hours, he was on a plane for the first time since he left St. Petersburg. Coaching a ten year old meant that he had no need to leave Kazakhstan, not until Alexei was twelve and could participate in international competitions. 

  


The entire ride to Russia, Otabek’s thoughts tumbled around, tossing and turning inside of his head as if he had no control over them(which really, he didn’t). 

  


_ How’s Yuri going to react to seeing me? _

  


_ Do I even have the courage to face him? _

  


_ I… _

  


_ I want to be friends with him again. _

  


_ I miss him.  _

  


_...Does he miss me? _

  


Around and around they went, leading Otabek back to one main point -  _ How is he going to react?  _ \- and what was going to happen within the weekend.

  


When they arrived in St. Petersburg, Alexei practically dragged him down through the streets, leading him not to a house, but to a small studio.

  


“Alexei, I don’t think-”

  


“Come on! I’m almost late! Besides, Mister P wanted to meet my coach. He does my choreography, you know.” 

  


_ I got myself into this one.  _

  


The boy darted through the door, barely able to stop before he ran smack into a wall, “Mister P, Mister P!”

  


A figure stepped inside the room, and Otabek sucked in a breath.

  


Yuri looked… almost exactly as he remembered. Blonde hair, tugged into a bun atop his head. Green eyes that looked empty, lifeless, a deep ocean of concealed sorrow that Otabek could only recognize because he knew him. A lithe figure, thin arms crossed, wearing a white shirt, pale pink cardigan, black tights, and black pointe shoes. 

  


At first, Yuri didn’t notice him, which was all fine and dandy. He just bent down, his lips pursed as he examined Alexei.

  


“Good afternoon, Alexei. You seem very happy today.”

  


“My coach came with me to St. Petersburg!” 

  


Yuri raised an eyebrow, “The coach you’re always talking about but refusing to say their name?”

  


“That’s the one!” Alexei chirped, with a devious grin. He then turned to Otabek, who had been standing by the door for the entire exchange, unable to formulate words.

  


“Mister P, this is Otabek, my coach!” 

  


It was the look in Yuri’s eyes, those lovely sea-foam eyes that Otabek loved so much, that caused the most pain.

  


They were full of a longing sorrow, shock, indescribable anger, self-hatred, and, most importantly of all, betrayal, as though Otabek himself had stabbed Yuri from behind. 

  


As quickly as the emotions settled in, they disappeared, replaced by a blank expression.

  


“I’ve heard a lot about you from Alexei.”

  


“Really? I’ve heard nothing about you.” 

  


“Was that why you came?”

  


“No.”

  


Yuri scoffed, the obvious bitterness in his posture doing a better job at displaying his emotions than his words, “Whatever. This is Alexei’s practice time - if you insist on staying, you can take a seat.”

  


Otabek sighed, and he resigned himself to sitting on the bench. In all honesty, he didn’t remember the reason why he had come. Why had he agreed to come back to St. Petersburg? He knew Yuri would react like this. Yuri had every right to react harshly. 

  


And… yet…

  


_ I really do miss him. _

  


Seeing him in person for the first time in a year, watching him run through the choreography for Alexei’s program, still just as flexible as always, golden strands of hair slipping out of his bun to messily frame his face… it stirred something inside of Otabek, a spark he thought he had put out, a burning desire for what he and Yuri had, years ago, before the injury that suspended his own skating, before the cold shoulders and bittersweet conversations.

  


And oh.

  


_ Oh.  _

  


It was never Yuri. How could he think that the reason their relationship failed was Yuri? Yuri did nothing wrong. He tried so hard to make Otabek happy, to comfort him, to be there for him…

  


And Otabek had been hurting, physically and emotionally. His knee had been seriously injured, to the point that he would never skate professionally again(although that didn’t stop him from coaching) while Yuri had still been in his prime, unconsciously flaunting medals that Otabek would never win, titles he would never hold. 

  


_ It hadn’t been Yuri’s fault.  _

  


But, in his pain, Otabek had thought it was. He had deluded himself, convinced his mind that Yuri had been the one to ruin their relationship, that he had been the one to mess everything up, the reason Otabek didn’t want to be there.

  


_ But it wasn’t. _

  


_ It wasn’t Yuri. _

  


_ It was him. _

  


_ It was all him. _

  


It was him, and he was the reason they stopped working, and he was the reason Yuri quit skating, and it was all his fault, and the emotions he hadn’t felt the past year crashed down on him - a wave of pure guilt drowning him, pulling him away from reality and further into the depths of his own emotions, the rain of heavy sorrow preventing him from surfacing, the predatory self-hatred gnawing away at his very being. 

  


_ I’m sorry, Yuri.  _

  


_ I’m so, so sorry. _

  


It was Alexei that pulled him out of the depths, drawing him back to reality with a greeting and a tap on his shoulder.

  


“Otabek? My mom is here.”

  


Otabek stood up shakily. He needed to confront Yuri. He needed to talk to him now, to apologize, to attempt to make up for the way he had almost carelessly tossed Yuri aside. If he didn’t do it now, he would never have the courage again.

  


“Yuri?”

  


Alexei was all but forgotten.

  


The blonde turned his head from his position almost directly outside of his office, eyes blank once more, “Yes?” His reply was quiet.

  


Otabek was at a loss for words… Nothing sounded right in his head, no words he created sounded good enough, and he wondered if he ever would be able to make it up to Yuri.

  


“Come out to dinner with me,” Is what slipped out of his mouth, and he immediately regretted it. After all, surely Yuri would reject him, even if his words were a statement, a demand,  _ a plea _ , not a question.

  


“Why should I?” 

  


Yuri’s question, soft, whispered words laced with the bitterness of depression, gave Otabek a tiny sliver of hope, because Yuri hadn’t directly rejected his offer, hadn’t turned him down, not yet.

  


“Because I…”

  


_ I’m sorry. _

  


_ I miss you. _

  


_ I’m an idiot.  _

  


_ I’m horrible. _

  


_ I want to set things right. _

  


_ I want to talk to you. _

  


“Because I’m still in love with you.”

  


This was definitely the wrong thing to say. Otabek’s heart painfully clenched in his chest as Yuri’s eyes pooled with unshed tears, swimming in the sorrow the green irises held.

  


“You can’t just-”

  


“Yuri. Yura. There are so many things I need to say, and I can’t say them here,” Otabek interrupted whatever it was Yuri had been about to say, and he took a step forward, noting whenever Yuri did not back away, “I was an idiot who couldn’t see past my own pain and self-loathing, and I took it out on you. I… I  _ realize _ that now. And I want nothing more than to make it up to you, to at least become friends again, because, fuck Yura, my life is meaningless without you. I’m so, so sorry it took me a year to realize this.” 

  


The words came spilling out of him, a stream of water pouring out of a broken faucet, and he couldn't  _ stop _ , he needed to let Yuri know how he felt, what he wanted. 

  


In the end, it’s enough, because, despite the silent tears dripping down Yuri’s cheeks, he laughed, a hollow laugh that could be mistaken as a sob.

  


“You were right about one thing, Altin,” His voice was a mere whisper, the words themselves strangled, as if the grief Otabek picked out in his eyes was threatening to choke the life out of Yuri. Poor, poor Yuri, who deserved the world. 

  


“You’re a fucking  _ idiot _ .”

  


“Is that a yes?” Otabek dared to hope, because he knew Yuri, he did, and he knew that if Yuri really meant to reject him as he had been rejected a year ago, he wouldn’t have bothered wasting breath to remind Otabek of something he had known for awhile.

  


Yuri, who, through the tears streaming down his cheeks, managed to pull the corners of his lips up into a small, grim smile, a single hand brushing Otabek’s cheek. His fingers came off wet.

  


_ Am I crying? _

  


“It’s a maybe. I’ll… I’ll give you another chance. But you have to earn my trust. You have to. I can’t… I can’t go through that again.”

  


“Okay.  _ Okay _ . Now come on. I’ll take you out to eat.”

  


They walked out of the studio together, so close they were nearly touching - a pair of lovers, reunited. 

  


A pair of hazel eyes watched them go.

  


“I did it, Mama.”

  


Katya glanced over at her son, who was watching the two with a knowing grin, a sparkle in his eyes, “You did what?”

  


“I helped Mister P smile.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
